Drought
by Kyoshi7989
Summary: Katara chose Zuko. Aang chose to leave her. So why, Katara wondered, did it still feel like there were choices to be made? ZutaraKataang Angst. For Twilight Rose2. Merry--Early--Christmas, Twilight :D


**Drought**

It is the winter after the war. Katara is fifteen, Aang is thirteen, and they are both too young to be going through any of this. How he first finds out about Zuko, Katara is never able to figure out, only that it happens, and that suddenly everything she has ever worked to hide is spread out in front of them both.

"It's over," Aang whispers. His eyes are shocked and worn, yet already haunted with grief—as if he can sense the years of emptiness that will come from this. "It's over."

Katara can do nothing but let her heart stop beating. Take it slow, Katara. Not too fast, now.

"I'm sorry," she says, and Aang flinches, because this is not an apology for what she has done—for what she has _destroyed. _When Katara says _I'm sorry_, what she means is: _goodbye. Farewell. Get out_. Above them, the grey, grey sky—stolen from another day, when her heart longed only for revenge—begins to leak the first drops of rain from the sky.

When Katara's tongue flicks out to catch the wetness on her lips, it is not the rain she tastes, but water mixed with salt. How strange it is, because Katara always thought that this day would be one of freedom mixed with guilt—not a horrible combination of emptiness and grief—and that Zuko would be here with them. It is somewhat ironic, but neither of her guesses was correct.

Of their own accord, her hands reached up to suspend the water in midair, and this—

Aang turns away, whips out his glider, and leaps furiously into the storm. There is no way to mistake the water on his face for tears.

—no, _this_ is where the drought begins.

_

_

_

When does her heart stop fluttering _Aang_, and start pounding _Zuko_? This is a good question—a very good question, in fact. Katara is never quite sure herself. Maybe it is the day when she looks at Aang and sees safety instead of fun, then turns to Zuko and wonders absently if his kiss would feel any different then Aang's. Perhaps it would feel a little bit like recklessness, and adrenaline.

Of course, she berates herself immediately. What are you thinking, Katara? Silly you. Leave the excitement behind. It's time to settle down and continue being the _grown up_, remember? For a while, she is satisfied with this. The world is healing, day by day, and she tells herself that's all she ever really wanted. It works.

But eventually, Katara begins to slip. A quiet, layered glance, and a hug that lasts a few seconds too long. A peck on the cheek when Aang's back is turned. Is this when Aang first begins to realize that there is something between Zuko and Katara that was not there before? Maybe, maybe not. In the end, it doesn't even matter whether Aang saw anything or not: only that one day, Zuko and Katara looked at each other, and there _was_.

On the day Katara discovers that Zuko's kisses really _do_feel like adrenaline, Aang tells her he loves her for the first time.

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_

_

Katara arrives at the Fire Nation palace two weeks after Aang leaves her. With one glance at the look on her face—free and terrible both at once—Zuko steps forward to embrace her.

"I chose you," Katara whispers, leaning into him.

"Thank you, Katara," Zuko says back fervently, closing his eyes and pressing his lips against her hair. "Thank you for choosing me."

There will be time for him to ask how hurt the young Avatar is later, and to wonder how much he has hurt his closest friend. But now is not that time. Now is the time for Katara to hear the words, _Thank you for choosing me_, and wonder for the first time:

_Did I?_

_

_

_

The Fire Nation palace is a beautiful home, and Zuko is wonderfully kind to her. Katara did not initially plan to stay here, but something—fear, or love, or hope—has biden her to stay. Besides, the people of the Fire Nation need her just as much as anyone else in the world (or so Katara tells herself). Occasionally, Zuko and Katara fight. Sometimes, they argue, and more often then not, they disagree. But still, it is a good life. It is worth it, really, truly.

Every once in a while, Katara's mind wanders to Aang. How is he taking it? Is he still her sunshine boy; her brightest boy, with misty grey eyes and a pair of invisible wings? Katara hopes: oh! she hopes. But there is no way to find out for sure, because Aang avoids the Fire Nation like the plague. She is almost postivie that he doesn't know she's here, though, and that makes Katara worry for Aang's relationship with Zuko. How will the world take it, if the Firelord and the Avatar can't get along like they're supposed to?

Katara hopes that if Aang has to hate anyone, he'll hate her instead of Zuko. Anyone but Zuko, who will never deserve it. Zuko, who she _doesn't_deserve. Zuko, who _no one _will _ever_deserve. (Of course, Katara never came within a thousand miles of deserving Aang; but she tries to ignore this fact, and focuses more on the Zuko part of it.

Zuko, whom she loves. Zuko, who's kisses feel like excitement and wonder and adrenaline.)

But the Fire Nation palace is a beautiful home, of course, and Zuko _is_wonderfully kind to her, after all. Life is good, or close enough. And Katara will not—_refuses_ to acknowledge—that she deserves this least of all.

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_

It doesn't last for long. By the time the moon has only cycled once, Katara begins to dream of Aang, as well. But they aren't nightmares: this is what is so awful about them.

In these spirits forsaken _dreams_, Aang stands there, gazing at her with an unreadable look in his eyes. But he never talks. Aang only sits there, watching her with judging eyes. He never rises, never moves. Only sits there, judging her, and all Katara can do is sit across from him: waiting, waiting to be judged, for all of eternity.

After a few weeks of these dreams, Katara begins to speak to Aang, in her dreams. She asks him questions. She asks Aang if he hates her, or if he still loves her. She asks him how Roku is doing, and when Katara is feeling especially reckless, she asks if he will be coming to see her soon.

This is the only question Aang ever answers. "No."

"That's okay," she tells him, every time. "That's okay, Aang. We'll work it out, somehow."

The first time Aang replies to her, softly yet solemnly, "No, we won't," Katara wakes up crying.

_

_

_

She sleeps with Zuko for the first time on the eve of her sixteenth birthday. In the Water Tribes, it would be the worst shame possible to give up her maidenhood before marriage; Katara can no longer bring herself to care. Besides, Zuko is so concerned with his own honor that there is no chance he'll tell anyone.

They lie there in Zuko's monster of a bed for hours afterwards. Zuko strokes her sweaty hair, and murmurs to her every so often, "Thank you, Katara. Thank you."

"I think I'm the one who should be thanking you," she whispers back with a small smile. Zuko smiles back at her, and clasps her hands in his, with his eyes closed in utter bliss. Part of her wishes that she could leave him now, before he realizes how broken she really is, because Katara will never be whole and worthy of him—not when she is so torn between two.

Two boys. Two loves. Two roads before her—or, at least, there _were_two roads; perhaps, now, the choices have slimmed. Katara wishes that she had two hearts to love them both, so that she could spend her time loving Zuko _and_Aang, instead of unintentionally breaking them both.

_

_

_

_Did I? Did I? _Did_ I?_

Katara can't get them out of her head. These words—the words that linger on, since she thought of them on the day of her arrival—never cease to haunt her. Katara chose Zuko, or at least, she _should've_, if she wanted to keep her heart from ripping in half.

_I chose Zuko_, Katara reminds herself, almost daily. When she kisses him, she tries to engrave these words into the surface of her skull. _I chose Zuko. Aang_ chose _to_ _leave_ _me. Aang chose to_ run away_. I chose_ ; _I_ chose _Zuko._

So why, Katara wonders bleakly, does it still feel like there are choices to be made?

_

_

Nearly five months have passed before Katara realizes that the last time she saw rain was that day with Aang, outside of Ba Sing Se. It isn't apparent until later, two months after the wet season is supposed to begin, but the Fire Nation is facing a terrible drought. Katara helps with the irrigation, and writes the Northern Tribe, asking for more waterbenders to assist her. They arrive, eventually, but the drought remains.

Sometimes, Zuko finds her at the window, staring out into the grey sky. More often then not, it is crackling with electricity, and lightning skids across the surface of the sky. But not one drop of rain falls.

Zuko thinks Katara does this because she feels guitly that she cannot help more. "It's okay," he tells her in his most soothing voice, placing his hands on her shoulders. "You have to stop blaming yourself for this. There's nothing you can do."

Her gaze does not budge. "How long has it been now, Zuko? Six months?" The tenor of Katara's voice is strained, like she is only inches away from breaking.

With a sigh, Zuko drops his hands. "It isn't _healthy_," he says, obviously frustrated. "You've got to stop doing this to yourself!"

Katara does not move—she never moves. Eventually, as she has come to learn, Zuko will leave. After all, there is nothing he can do; there is nothing that _she_ can do, either.

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_

Three months pass before the Firelord abandons his hint-dropping and outright _forces_her to leave the palace. "Go find rain," he orders, pointing towards the door. "I know you miss it. If you won't help yourself, Katara, then I'll have to do it for you."

"You don't understand," she insists, even as Zuko leads her out into the town, then towards the bay. "Zuko, I have to stay! The rain is going to come this week. Tomorrow, even," Katara says firmly. "I can feel it."

"No, you can't, and even if you did, it's not," Zuko replies bluntly. "You're a waterbender. You need water. I won't let you destroy yourself for me."

_It was never for you_, Katara almost says, but doesn't. Because Zuko is right. She has spent far too long—nearly too years—without rain, without water. Now, Katara looks back and notices, without the shock that should accompany it, that she has not cried, either.

This is truly a drought, the worst that she has ever seen. Katara steps on the boat that Zuko has prepared for her, and tells herself that it's time to end it.

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While they sail across the Fire Nation sea, Katara composes letters to Aang and to Zuko—letter after letter, after letter, after letter. _Dear Zuko_, she writes, and proceeds to tell him of her trip. _Dear Aang_, she writes, and proceeds to tell him of her choice; of the choice she has failed to make. There is a bigger difference between the letters, though, then the person they are intended for: the letters for Zuko will eventually reach him, however, the letters addressed to Aang lie in a box beneath her ship bed, and will never see the light of day.

Most often, she sits on the deck and watches the sky. Occasionally, Katara will practice waterbending with the ocean, but it does not rain. It comes close, just as it did in the Fire Nation—grey clouds will gather, and lightning might strike. But not one drop of rain falls.

Then, one day, the captain finds Katara with her eyes glued to the sky, and asks her, obviously mystified, "What are you looking for, Lady Katara?"

Katara almost laughs out loud at the title. _Lady_Katara. Well, she is the daughter of the chief, isn't she? Maybe that's right.

"You know," she answers, so much softer than she once would've, "I'm not really sure myself."

He shrugs. "Well, whatever it is," he calls after his shoulder as he heads toward the stern of the ship, "I hope you find it."

_Yes_, Katara thinks, _I hope so, too._

The boat drops her off a few weeks later at a port town on the edge of the Earth Kingdom, and as Katara steps off onto solid ground, she secretly thinks that she has not felt this free in years.

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_

Amazingly, rain does not coincide with Katara's journey until she reaches the far inland of the Earth Kingdom. She is traversing across the hilly landscape when a splatter of rain freckles her nose. For the first few seconds, when the drops continue to fall faster and thinker around her, Katara doesn't move. Then, she realizes that it is _raining_ on _her _for the first time in _two damn years_, and comes back to her sense.

Katara drops her bags, and gazes with awe at the sky. Her tongue circles her lips, and for a moment, she tastes salt, on her tongue. What is she crying from? Happiness, or sadness? Or maybe she is crying for her boys; for the pain and the joy and the laughter and the tears that they bring her.

That's right: her boys. Aang and Zuko. Aang is sunshine and smiles. Zuko is power, and peace.

_Her_boys. They will never be anything less. But Katara has not decided between them, not yet—and somewhere deep down, she wonders if she ever will. But there is time; there is always time.

It doesn't change anything. There is still a choice to be made, here.

Katara stands in the rain with her face to the sky; with arms outspread to welcome the end of a drought, and does not make it.

* * *

**A/N: **Ohmigod, such ANGST. Jeez, the Zuko/Katara/Aang triangle is often portrayed as depressing and miserable for Aang—which it is—but what about Katara? It's only after writing this that I realize how it would absolutely _destroy_Katara. Which is probably why this was so freaking angsty. I left the ending as ambiguous as I could because I'm not sure that Katara _could _choose one or the other, honestly; I think it's best for the reader to decide. Who knows? Maybe Aang and Zuko are _both_unhealthy for Katara; maybe it's best she never chooses either of them; maybe Katara is better off without a man.

Heh, hope you like it, Twilight Rose2 :D And I hope the angst wasn't too much for you.


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